


The Peacock Robe

by bonnie_wee_swordsman



Series: Various Tumblr Prompts [3]
Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Foreplay, NSFW, One Shot, a wee bit of dirty talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 10:00:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7753270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonnie_wee_swordsman/pseuds/bonnie_wee_swordsman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire tries something a little daring to impress Jamie. A Voyager missing scene taking place at Madame Jeanne's shortly after the Print Shop reunion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Peacock Robe

I sat nervously on the corner of the bed at Madame Jeanne’s, gnawing my thumbnail as I waited for Jamie to return from an errand with Fergus. While Jamie had offered repeatedly to find space for us at an inn or tavern, I had refused, saying I was perfectly amenable to our unconventional accommodation, now that I was reassured he was neither its proprietor nor in the habit of sampling its wares.  _ Besides _ , I had thought to myself with the spark of a notion,  _ lodging in a brothel did provide one with access to a unique variety of amenities. _

The ladies had been more than happy to assist earlier that evening with getting me dolled up a bit. My hair had been washed and styled, and I smelt sweetly of jasmine oil, having flatly refused the first suggestion of hyacinth. Likewise, I had steered clear of any white paints (knowing that these likely contained toxic lead), but allowed them to darken my lashline with kohl and to add a touch of rouge to my cheeks and lips. 

I had just risen off the bed to check my appearance in the looking glass once more (afraid that in my nervousness I might have sweated it all off) when I heard Jamie’s footsteps coming up the stair. Odd, that even after twenty years, I still could recognize his gait. 

I hastened into position, blood pounding through me with anticipation.  _ Here goes.  _

Jamie wasn't two steps into the room before he stopped dead. 

It was a  _ gorgeous _ thing: a blood-red satin robe with embroidered peacock feathers stretching up gracefully from the hem. It caught the candlelight magnificently and cast my skin all around in a rosy, sensuous glow. I had come upon it in the costuming room where Fergus and I had had our reunion. I'd supposed it to be the partner of the embroidered-groping-hands shift I had happened to be wearing at the time. While the feathers spoke of subtle sensuality (the fact that they were of the pea _ cock  _ variety was surely no accident) it was in itself an innocent-looking garment compared with the bawdy thing meant to be worn underneath. However, there was nothing innocent  _ whatsoever _ about how I was wearing the robe now. While tied firmly at the décolletage with a ribbon, its ends flowed open on their way to my feet, displaying very obviously that I wore not a stitch underneath. In fact, with regards to my—ahem— _ front aspects, _ only my nipples were left to the imagination (and those  _ just _ barely). I was leaned back against the bedpost, both arms behind my back and one leg tucked modestly ( _ ha _ !) in front of the other like a beauty queen. I couldn't keep a smirk of satisfaction and pleasure from my lips as I saw Jamie’s mouth still hanging open, his face quite blank.  _ Speechless, eh, lad?  _

Then, quite suddenly, his expression darkened, brows furrowing as his lip curled in unmistakable disgust. “And what in  _ God’s _ name is that rubbish, then?” 

The shock hit me as though he had thrown ice water in my face. “ _ Rubbish?” _ I said, stepping away from the bedpost, my voice several octaves higher than normal from hurt and indignation.

“Aye,” he said, gesturing toward me, “that  _ whore’s getup  _ ye’ve got on!”

Absolutely mortified, I turned a deep red (red as the garment itself, surely).  _ Jesus H. Christ, you  _ knew _ this was foolish, Beauchamp. You're nearly fifty years old for heaven’s sake.  _ I pulled the robe shut and crossed my arms over my chest, glaring fiercely at him in a show of outrage that I hoped concealed the tears that were beginning to sting my eyes. 

“And wi’ your face painted up like one of the wee strumpets downstairs?  _ Jesus _ , Claire!” He set down the parcel he'd been carrying with a thud on the table, scoffing. “I canna  _ believe _ ye would even dare think—”

_ “ _ I’ll have you know,” I said hotly, throwing myself fully into outrage to keep from crying in front of him, “that in my time it is considered  _ perfectly _ respectable for a lady to wear cosmetics AND lingerie, particularly in her  _ own _ bedroom with her  _ own _ husband!” I turned my back and jerked at the ribbon at my throat. “I  _ thought _ you would find me  _ sexy  _ in it—” 

_ There’s a new word for you _ , I thought about saying, though I was too busy struggling with the knot in the  _ bloody _ ribbon.

“—But apparently you think I'm too  _ old _ or—or— _ fat _ —or  _ matronly _  to ‘dare think’ I could arouse such—”

“ _ Ye didna let me finish _ , Claire.”

In my bluster, I hadn’t realized that he had come up right behind me. I froze, his breath hot on my ear and down my neck. His voice was impossibly deep...impossibly soft...

“What I was  _ about _ to say was…” 

Slowly, he brought one hand across my torso, lightly brushing aside the fabric to encircle my bare breast. He gave a low chuckle as I gasped, feeling him tease the nipple. 

_ “...that I canna believe…”  _

He began moving his other hand slowly downward from my waist, my knees beginning to give way as the scratching whisper of his fingers over satin vanished into the silence of my bare skin.

_ “...ye would even dare think…”  _

I moaned as his fingers slid deftly between my legs. 

_ “...ye were lacking a single…solitary…thing...”  _

The hand at my breast left off, moving upward to loosen the ribbon, and he lifted his lips from the crook of my neck and shoulder, his voice the lowest, most gravelly whisper I had ever heard.

_ “...to make my cock throb so badly I canna breathe…”  _

The ribbon came free and the ruby robe slid to the ground, puddling around my feet as he pulled me back hard against him. His lips closed hot and maddeningly around my earlobe as he whispered—

_ “...or make me want to do things to make ye scream louder than anyone else under this roof.”  _

_ With that deep, visceral growl of lust vibrating against me and the motions of his hands  _ already _ making me see stars… _

...I hadn’t the faintest doubt that I would.

**Author's Note:**

> This mini-fic was written for outlandolled.tumblr.com, a blog dedicated to doll-sized versions of costumes from the Outlander TV show.
> 
> The fic is based on an *original* costume by Outlandoll's creator, who requested a wee scenario to accompany it. Be sure to check it out via the permalink below; you willna regret it!
> 
> [http://outlandolled.tumblr.com/post/148853596019/the-peacock-robe-a-collaboration-between]


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